Unrequited
by Lady Jaida
Summary: [ Hana Zakari no Kimi Tachi E -- Hanakimi -- For You In Full Blossom ] Well, my second Hanakimi fic -- this one focuses on Nakatsu, Nanba, and Akiha, and their unrequited loves. C+C worshipped.
1. Unrequited

**Unrequited**  
  
Looking up at the stars I know quite well  
That for all they care I can go to hell  
But on earth indifference is the least  
We have to fear from man or beast  
  
How should we like it were the stars to burn  
With a passion for us we could not return?  
If equal affection cannot be  
Let the more loving one be me.  
  
- W. H. Auden 


	2. Nakatsu

**Nakatsu  
**

He knows he is not good enough for her.

A sloppy voice and a heedless mind fall short of everything she deserves.

The heart, he mourns, and all the intensity of its emotions, are not enough.

With a peach soda in hand he sits on the park bench, sprawled out and glum. His knees bend carelessly, his body young, half-childish, though he knows the misery of a full grown man and his shoulders sag low for it.

Broken hearts take a long, long time to heal.

They are something much, much stronger than anything a peach soda and sweet-breezed day can doctor.

The sugary drink sloshes inside the can. He swirls it around and around pointlessly. His motions speak of the absence he feels, aimless and without care.

His eyes are half-lidded and focused upon the nothing before him.

"C'mon," he says to himself, scowling faintly, petulant.

Moods like this annoy him, and he thinks that by grumbling, he can frighten them or bully them away. The emotions he feels are acute for their childish nature and make his chest painfully tight at times. He does not like them.

"C'mon, she's happy, anyway."

But still it offends him that she is happy, without him. It hurts his sensitive feelings and makes him frown yet further. For a while now, he has known that the only happiness he can find is the happiness of his dreams, the happiness in her arms, brushing with an awkward thumb the stray lock of hair from her forehead and smiling down at her.

"Mizuki."

He huffs, cheeks puffing up.

"I'm just stupid, like they say."

And he knows, at least, that much is true, though the blunt edge of stupidity does not soften the sharp sting of rejection.

"Mizuki."

He says her name differently this time, the peach soda stilling, the sloshing sound giving way to the breeze and the otherwise-silence.

He says her name sweetly, sweeter than the first spring morning as the sun rises.

He says her name gently, with a tenderness he has never before felt, or tried to express.

He says her name softly, just below his breath, the delicacy of it surprising from a tongue so rough.

"Mi-zu-ki."

Each syllable, long and drawn. He pays special attention to the way they feel on his tongue, as if this way, he could kiss her cheek, her brow, her lips, by kissing her name just so.

He wonders if somewhere her nose wrinkles up in that way it does. He wonders if after the third time he says her name, she sneezes, wherever she is.

Mizuki sneezes easily.

A flicker of a smile plays over his lips. He sets the peach soda down by his feet and stretches his long legs out. He lifts his arms above his head and gives his shoulders a casual, comfortable roll. It is a nice day.

He would like her to love him.

He would love her like no one else could. The sweetness in his mouth tastes oddly sour and though he smiles it does not go deep. He smiles because her very name is sweet, like he would day-dream her lips to be. He smiles because when he is alone he can say her name to the sky and feel for a moment that when he closes his eyes it is like a confession.

His sins lifted from his sagging shoulder.

He snorts softly, scoffing at himself.

"Whatcha want from yourself?"

Silence.

"Nakatsu."

There is nothing but the wind in the trees and that pang in his chest.

"...an' Mizuki."

A poor substitute, putting their names together. A poor substitute for bodies and hearts.

He picks the can of peach soda up and listens to the sloshing sound of the thick and suddenly syrupy sweet liquid inside the can?s walls. The sun is shining brightly but all the sweetness, all the brightness in the world seems to be mocking his moods.

"Saa. So that's the way it's gonna be."

And it is. 


	3. Nanba

**Nanba**

  
_When the lazy silk of her hair spills over her shoulder._

Hands in his pockets.

_When they are in their own bed she touches his cheek._

Head kept high.

_So that he shivers, the little shivers down his spine, little slow shivers._

Foot after foot after foot, a confident stride, they say.

_Do they have a moment of rest? Of contemplation? Together in the fading sunlight they have made love on the sheets of their bed. Her hair spread out over the pillow. Her lips parted and her eyes shut and the both of them making sounds, soft, broken sounds, I love you, I love you too, forever, yes, forever, yes._

He has her memory, tucked tight into a pocket buried deep in his heart.

There it pumps his blood.

There it keeps him walking confidently with his head held high.

_Nanako._

Because what if he should pause in his step and see her.

And have to prove to her that without her.

He is strong.

_Nanako wa--_

He is just fine.

_Boku no Nanako--_

He is OK.

_Boku no--_

He's more than OK. He?s better than ever.

There is no need, no need, to say anything.

See how straight he stands? 

See how casual he moves?

This is not the straight back of a boy brokenhearted, this is not the casual lounge of a boy left lonely.

_But more than anything he loves her. More than anything, he wants this, and only this, for always. To lift a hand to her face and cup it gently, and watch her eyes on his eyes, and feel this warmth in their bed with her body, the curves of her breasts soft and pale against his own cheek as she cradles him, pressing him close to her chest. Legs on either side of him and his back sinking back into the soft mattress beneath him. She combs his hair with her fingers. He breathes in the scent of her body, which is sweet, like these mornings in her arms. She kisses his forehead. He sighs. She kisses his forehead. More than anything, more than anything, he loves her._

What do you do?

What can you do?

_"When you lift your chin up, it makes you look older," she says, "more mature." Her eyes sparkle. He lifts his chin up._

When you're left alone, you're left alone.

You just have to keep your chin up.

'Cause it makes you look more mature.

_Their two bodies fit and feel right. He learns the language of her languid arms and her lazy smiles and he learns it fluently. He loves it when her hair falls in her eyes, so he can brush it back, and watch her lips smile._

Memories, he scowls.

For a while he wants to erase them.

But he would not know how to walk so confidently, were he not remembering how she touched him with her cool fingertips.

_"Minami."_

It is hard to keep the smile up.

_"Nanako."_

His hands feel empty in his pockets.

_"We're late for class."_

It is the stinging pain that she left him.

A first love pretends that it will last forever.

When reality sets in the blow is fierce to the sensitive senses.

It is not that it ended that he still rages against, in the very deep, very secret places inside his chest. It is that she ended it. It is that he did not see it coming and thought, foolish, yes, naive, oh yes, that it would not end, could not end.

_Just because I say I love you now does not mean I will say it tomorrow._

All he can do, he thinks. All a guy can do in the terrible face of love unrequited.

_Just because there is nothing that lasts forever._

Is keep his chin up. 


	4. Akiha

**Akiha  
**

"Ohayou, sempai!"

"Get out."

He feigns being hurt to disguise how hurt he is. "Such a cold welcome?"

"No different than yesterday or tomorrow."

Umeda's ways are blunt, and Akiha is used to them. He blusters on heedless of the warning signs, settling himself across from the doctor, leaning back against his desk. His hands grip the edges, and a smile plays over his lips.

Easier to hide things when you?re smiling than when you aren't.

Easier to fool people.

"You could at least pretend to be glad to see me."

"No. I couldn't."

"Well, technically, you could."

"And yet I don't."

"Exactly." Akiha inclines his head to one side. "Why is that?"

"Because I don?t give a shit about you," Umeda grunts softly. He lifts his beer to his lips and a takes a deep, calming swallow. His eyes focus on the pattern of sunlight on the wall behind Akiha. His eyes focus on the tree branches outside the window bending low in the wind, straining to the ground where the comfort of their hidden roots is stored. He understands the trees quite well. He gets where they're coming from.

Akiha sighs. "Never have, and you never will."

"Exactly."

"Mou..."

"Now will you get out?"

"Not until you say good morning back!"

"I'm not going to and you know that damn well."

There is silence. 

Akiha feels the familiar cut, deep and wrenching in his chest. He smiles over it, cheerfully bright and painfully hollow.

If Umeda were watching him, maybe he'd see.

But Umeda is watching the smoke curl up from his cigarette, now.

Umeda does not watch Akiha.

Akiha unfolds his arms and leans forward. Their faces are very close.

"Get out of my face."

"No."

"No?"

The thinly veiled strain of anger in his voice.

Umeda tries so hard, Akiha notes. As hard as Akiha himself tries. Akiha understands Umeda quite well. He gets where he's coming from.

"I don't particularly want to."

"You're too close, Akiha."

"I'm not close enough, sempai." Umeda's muscles tense in the familiar game. He waits for it. Akiha's fingers lifting, graceful and light, as Umeda does not watch them curve delicately in the air. Umeda stiffens as they brush over his cheek.

Akiha's hot breath on his lips.

Akiha's warm lips on his own lips.

A stolen kiss which makes Umeda's gut clench and his senses rage.

His hands on Akiha's shoulders.

His hands shoving Akiha's shoulders.

His hands shoving Akiha back, off.

"Get out of here."

"You can't push me away forever," Akiha says.

"Yes," Umeda says in reply, "I can. Get out."

Akiha lifts a hand over his shoulder in defeated farewell.

Today, he got a little closer.

Just a little closer--

For now, stolen kisses will have to do for him. One day, he will take of Umeda freely, Umeda will give of himself freely.

...Perhaps. 


End file.
